


Shaving the Savage

by Dame_Syrup (mary_pseud)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Kinkmeme, Oral Sex, Shaving, equal opportunity depiliation, menstrual cycle (mentioned), safety razor, shaving cream, shower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 11:11:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14400939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mary_pseud/pseuds/Dame_Syrup
Summary: For a kinkmeme prompt: "Four/Leela - shower fun and shaving"





	Shaving the Savage

"Doctor," Leela asked, "do you have a seashell?"

"A seashell?" The Doctor frowned slightly, adjusting the chronoscopic vernier on the TARDIS control panel. "What do you need a seashell for?"

"It is a tradition among my people, Doctor, that women shave heir bodies, to bare themselves before the spirits, before their time of the moon."

The Doctor's eyebrows were rising at the images this invoked, and that wasn't all that was rising.

"And a sharpened seashell is best - Doctor, what is it?" He had turned to her with his face a bit flushed, then suddenly turned away as though to hide his face - or something a bit lower down.

"I think," he coughed and cleared his throat, "I think that I should introduce you to a little twentieth-century invention made by your ancestors." He reached out, and took her fingers in his cool ones. "Something called the safety razor."

 

* * *

The shower was one of the Doctor's favourites, all dark rough tiles that promised a solid grip underfoot. There was a built-in ledge for sitting as well, and that was where Leela was right now, naked. Warm water flooded down over her from multiple showerheads, rinsing her long dark hair into a sheet over her breasts, beading in her lashes, as she intently watched the Doctor.

He was kneeling at her feet, equally bare, his hair all frizzled into wet curls close to his head She admired the strong lines of his body as he picked up one of her feet, coated it with white foam, and then lightly brushed it with a pink stick.

The stick barely seemed to touch her, but when she took back her foot and felt it, the tiny patch of hair on her big toe was gone, as though it had never been.

"And this is a safety razor," she said, taking the little pink stick and examining it. It was clever, the way the blades were held in the little hinge so that they scraped away hair at just the right angle.

As she examined it, the Doctor was examining her, artlessly piling the shaving cream into his open palm in a higher and higher mound. Her breasts were wet, and her flat belly: and the curve of her hips against the red tile was an arch that seemed to invite his touch.

She reached out with her foot and slowly glided it through the foam in his hand. His palm cupped her sole, ran over the tendon of her ankle, and slid up her leg until he was cupping the back of her knee.

"You may keep shaving me, Doctor," she said, regally, and he grinned and continued.

The flyaway hairs around her ankles and the long straight hairs on her calves gave him no trouble. The fine, more delicate hairs that sprouted along her arms were next, and he raised her arms over her head to watch her breasts lift, and also to shave her, leaving her armpits smooth.

He dabbed a little shaving cream on her chin, and started to work there, but she laughed and said, "No, Doctor. Lower."

He went lower.

The fine line of hairs that ran like smoke along her firm lower belly was slowly, slowly scraped away. Then he was faced, literally, with the most delicate part of the operation.

He was generous with the shaving cream, and also with his fingers: covering her tender skin as he scraped one side clean and then the other, inviting her to place her legs over his shoulders so that he could get the finest, curliest chairs that grew far back in her cleft.

When he was done, he just looked at her. Brown and pink and shining, flushed at the touch of his hands.

He took his hands and laid them familiarly on the curve of her waist.

"My dear," he said huskily, "you look good enough to eat."

And he did. It was a wet business, and he inhaled far too much water through his nose, but the taste of her, the feel of her growing hotter and hotter under the touches of his tongue, was impossible to resist. He licked and he sucked and listened to her cries of delight, and cupped himself with one hand to feel his own flesh swell.

She came - and then sneezed, hugely, all over his back.

"Sorry," she said. "I had water up my nose-"

"Of course," he interrupted. He scooted away and then rose to his knees, arching his back to show her his erection, wet and gleaming under the warm spray. All of him was wet and gleaming, broad shoulders and sturdy thighs, his long fingers still flecked with her stray hairs.

He smiled and said, "I was wondering if-"

"-I would shave you?" Leela reached out and took him in a firm grip, and picked up the razor in her other hand. "Of course."

They switched places. Now the Doctor sat on the little shelf, his erection bobbing with excitement at her touch, then flinching as she carefully shaved the thick mat of hair at his groin. She went very slowly (his hair was considerably coarser than hers, having not been shaved in recent months) and it took her some time to get him bare. But whenever his erection showed signs of serious dimming, she used her foam-covered fingers to arouse him again.

"Now you will not tickle my nose," she said, and started her sucking in earnest. Stroking his newly bare skin with her fingers, rubbing his shaft with her tongue, cupping his balls in her smouldering hot fingers. Her mouth was the world, a world of pressure and heat and touch and the soft wet sounds of her sucking: and he came, filling that world with his life.

 

* * *

Afterwards, the Doctor entered certain dates into the absolute calendar of the TARDIS, so that he would know without question when Leela's next moon-time would be.

And in her room, Leela carefully arranged a series of notched sticks, to do the same.

They both smiled as they did this.


End file.
